


Picture Perfect

by Pyrrhic_Victory (our_end)



Series: The Twins - Aaron and Ace [2]
Category: Original Work
Genre: Blood, Brothers, Compulsions, Gen, Guilt, Mental Illness, PTSD, Ritual, Scarification, Scars, Self-Harm, Sociopathy, Trauma, Twins, emotional disorders
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-02-15
Updated: 2017-02-15
Packaged: 2018-09-24 15:08:11
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,837
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9767480
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/our_end/pseuds/Pyrrhic_Victory
Summary: It's been a very, very long time.





	

**Author's Note:**

> Aaron and Ace Graves, my twin OCs, with many more issues than they'd like to admit.
> 
> The first paragraphs are one-liners, but it isn't like that all the time.

“Are you sure?”

  
The question echoed, asked by the two occupants of the bright room at the same time. Both men nodded in synchrony once.

  
“It’s been a very long time.”

  
“I guess it just means more work.”

  
A shadow of a smile flashed briefly on one’s face, reflected much more brightly on the other’s.

  
“You haven’t changed, Aaron.”

  
“You have.”

  
Silence.

  
They were so close, but seemed so far away.

  
Feeling like they had hit somewhat of an obstacle, Aaron swiftly tried to change the subject, lest it ruin their plans.

  
“It’s your turn, this time.”

  
Ace nodded, rolling his shoulders.

  
“We should start small.”

  
“Yeah, we have a lot to do.”

  
Aaron looked down at the knife, sitting on the mattress besides his fingers. The blade was clean and recently sharpened. Sterilized. Everything was clean and sterilized. One of his hands reached for the weapon, while the other gently grasped his twin’s face. Ace looked at him with absolute trust and adoration in his eyes. Aaron knew that, in a few minutes, he’d have the same look in his own eyes.

  
With slow movements, the just-slightly younger one took the knife to his twin’s face. Without hesitation, he let the sharp blade bite into his brother’s skin, just above his lip. A small cut. It didn’t bleed much. Ace didn’t flinch, barely moved as he breathed. Just as slowly as he had approached, Aaron shifted back, the sheets soft under his naked thighs.

  
Another emotion made its appearance in Ace’s eyes. It was relief. One less difference between them. One more scar. The pain was nothing compared to the pain they felt when they looked at each other and saw someone else.

  
Only when Aaron was done did his brother move, gingerly wiping the blood off his face with a nearby towel. A white towel. Red before the end of the day. Aaron let their legs rest together, always allowing the contact when it came to Ace, who appreciated the gesture.

  
“I can do the next one,” the mercenary murmured, smiling. Ace looked down at himself, then at his twin and nodded.

  
This time, Aaron was less gentle. Less gentle, but just as precise. He knew exactly what he was doing as he drove the ice-pick into his own thigh. He avoided anything vital expertly. His expression twisted in pain and he snarled. Ace helped him wrench it out, immediately covering the new injury with another towel, pressing down.

  
“Unfriendly natives,” the older twin stated softly, frowning.

  
“I’m sorry,” Aaron replied, panting just slightly, feeling his brother’s old pain. He pressed his lips softly against Ace’s cheek, who leaned into the touch. “You have five of those to make.” That brought a small smile to his brother’s face, the small pain in his lip all but forgotten.

  
“We can do this.”

  
“Yeah.”

  
Ace closed his eyes for a moment before opening them again.

  
“Guide me,” he said, and Aaron nodded, steady hands leaving his bleeding thigh. He regarded his uninjured leg for a moment, the guided Ace’s hands holding the weapon to their target, but leaving them at an angle.

  
“Like this,” he told his twin, “you’ll leave the _arteria femoris_.”

  
Having a less comprehensive grasp of anatomy and practice than his twin, Ace droved the metal into his flesh much more slowly. This time, he let himself show pain. With Aaron, he was safe. Always. Unconsciously, he shivered, prompting Aaron to shush him gently and put an arm around him as his free hand reached for the pick. Only when his brother nodded did he pull it out, and covered it. Ace did not make much of a sound, but he did flinch.

  
They rested for an hour. They knew they hadn’t much time together. They had to finish today, but too much at once was too big of a risk. One they were not keen on taking with each other’s lives. They drank water and cared for what had already been done. Not a word passed between them. They had never lost the habit of conversing silently, with looks and touches. Once rested, they began anew, progressing slowly, pausing frequently. At one point falling asleep against each other, tired and careful not to move around too much. Years of practice let them complete the tradition without bleeding out, so as long as the necessary precautions were taken.

  
The room was warm, clean, but small. There were towels and medical supplies, some already used. Weapons also had their place, sharpened, sterilized. Everything was easily reachable. Most of this was Aaron’s work. The stock of blood bags sitting on the fridge just in case there was an accident, surprisingly, had been procured by Ace.

  
No matter how much simulating bullet scars hurt, they were leaving the worst for last. Because the burn on Ace’s ribs would not hurt his twin like the scars on his back was. The five bleeding, circular wounds the older twin now had wouldn’t be as painful, nor as dangerous, as what Aaron would have to inflict on him.

  
They traded stories silently. Stories, and emotions, and hurt and memories. The anguish of the wounds.

  
It was night-time when they deemed themselves ready. It had been two hours since the last time they had decided to rest.  
They had started, after that first cut, with the ice-pick, easing off with the knife. Several cuts had been made, self-inflicted and otherwise. In their years apart, they had amassed a joint collection of thin and long scars everywhere on their bodies. They had taken the most care if their faces. There was no margin for error. The cuts were made slowly, adjusting the depth to each scar. Rather surprisingly, considering both their professions, there were only two burns, in their chests and right hands.  
The twins stared at each other, panting slightly from the pain. They had taken painkillers before they had started, but they had long since worn off and they refused to take more.

  
Everything had to be perfect. They had analyzed times enough this compulsion to be… equal. They had never denied their individuality, even if it had been blurry at best during the first years of their lives. Trying to explain the unexplainable was a waste of time and energy, so they hadn’t bothered past the first fumbling attempts. Neither of them were particularly attracted by the theory of things, either. They much rather study and perfect the practical.  
Bro had never discouraged them.

  
“I wish we could do this together,” Aaron lamented, earning a nostalgic smile from his twin.

  
“Like before.”

  
But they couldn't, and their lives had veered so monumentally off-track that they probably never would be able to again. They couldn't even remember where and what the track had been leading them to. Glory? Money? Power? Certainly not what they were now.

  
No point in asking who would go first, or if they knew the marks well enough. They had long since memorized them, either by tracing them with their finger, or feeling them pulling at their skin. Ace took their last blade, the sharpest one yet, with steady hands. The pain from his previous wounds did nothing to unbalance him. There was no point in thinking about what had been done or what was to come. All that mattered was what he was about to do now.

  
Aaron rolled onto his stomach without prompting, mindless of the pain in his chest and legs. He would be lying if he said he wasn’t worried, but not for himself. This would be heavy on Ace and he had to make sure his twin would be okay.

  
The first time the blade pressed into his skin, just less than inch from his spine, Aaron couldn’t help but grit his teeth. He needed to stay completely still, distracting Ace would not be a brilliant idea. Two cuts, that was all he had to suffer through. It pained him to think his twin had gone through this alone. And he grieved, for the brother he had lost that day.

  
Ace was methodical, concentrating all his willpower in not letting his hands tremble, and in making the marks as precise as he could. He didn’t want to think about the pain he was putting Aaron through, all because he couldn't escape Them in time, because he had been useless. But he couldn’t help it, those were the thoughts that were plaguing his mind. The blade glided down Aaron’s spine, twisting and turning occasionally, avoiding nerves, anything vital.

  
“I’m so sorry,” Ace whispered, taking the knife away, looking at the blood, shivering with phantom pain. Aaron suffered silently as he returned to his knees and wrapped his arms around his twin.

  
“It wasn’t your fault,” he stated firmly, looking over Ace’s shoulder as he pressed him to his chest. He would never be able to understand his twin fully, all this guilt over someone else who was long dead, but he would offer all the comfort that he could. Ace closed his eyes and nodded, his brother’s presence going a long way to make his thoughts more palatable.

  
They were silent when they parted and didn’t talk as Ace helped Aaron take care of his wounds. The younger twin’s mobility would be compromised for more than a week. Ace remembered what it had been like.

  
After a few moments of stillness, Aaron gently pushed his twin back without warning. Ace went along willingly, laying on his back with his brother on top of him, holding his chin up carefully.

  
“Close your eyes,” Aaron murmured, frowning deeply as he ran his thumb over his twin’s lips, “it’ll be easier. Please.”  
Ace swallowed, Aaron seeing the muscles in his throat working, and did as asked, closing his eyes. This stopped him from seeing Aaron taking the blade in hand and grimacing. He didn’t want to do this to his twin. He had to be fast, shallow enough that Ace wouldn’t… but deep enough to leave a scar. Aaron knew how to do it, but he was nervous, for lack of a better word. Ace breathed in sharply as he felt cold metal against one side of his neck, but otherwise did not move.

  
Aaron was very careful, yet he couldn’t help the tidal wave of bad memories that hit him and he slashed his brother’s throat. He couldn’t fail, he couldn’t make any mistakes. Everything teetered on this moment.

  
The pain was nothing Ace couldn’t handle, but… Aaron had been killed like this, alone and by someone terrifying. And Ace hadn’t know. He hadn’t been there for his twin. It made him feel sick, feel like he deserved every cut Aaron bestowed upon him. Yet his brother didn't even think of blaming him.

  
As soon as he was done, Aaron quickly covered the slash in Ace’s neck, in an almost desperate attempt to stop the bleeding. It was okay, they were both alive and here. They weren’t going to die.

  
They’d be together forever.

**Author's Note:**

> Find me on Tumblr @the-graves-twins.


End file.
